


Paws and Effect (The Misadventures of Cat Samar)

by whimsicalwombat



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Samar is a cat, and does cat things, hero Cat Samar!, or at least this started as crack and then I actually started writing it half seriously, she might even save a crazy lady from a fire, that drive Aram crazy, who knows?!, you'll just have to read it to see where the muse takes me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwombat/pseuds/whimsicalwombat
Summary: A maniacal Blacklister with a ray gun leaves Samar faced with the sudden adjustment to life as a cat....Thank god it's only temporary.(aka the fic that started as a total joke on tumblr and then got waaay out of hand)





	1. Impawsible

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152300685@N03/v7gH14)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Here we go! The ~~tails~~ _tales_ of Cat Samar, brought to you by way too many ridiculous tumblr jokes. The more I tried to write it, the more it got steadily out of hand, so I figured why not go all out and make a banner edit too, just for the fun of it. 
> 
> Many thanks to the glorious beta namelesslynightlock and the fabulous extra beta who filled in when the first one went a-travelling; rories (aka elizabethkween on tumblr). Very little of my writing gets done without me pestering one or the other of these two (if not both!) with endless ideas and ramblings, so be sure to appreciate the hard work they do in putting up with me.
> 
> Now, onto the fic. Enjoy! And please comment if you love it! (also -don't take it too seriously, yeah?)

**_THURSDAY..._ **

Storming the latest Blacklister's lair had seemed a great idea.

Well, why wouldn't it?

The taskforce had evidence to arrest him, they had Aram's tech wizardry and Reddington's informative connections to tell them exactly where to find the guy, and so off they went. In this case it was a fellow who had developed a maniacal ray gun that he was using to turn people into cats in some kind of experiment to see if their human personalities would be reflected in their more feline appearance.

It was, in Ressler's words, 'ridiculous' and in Aram's, 'super cool'.

Ressler and Samar had marched in at the front with the SWAT team, while Liz had brought up the rear, ready to swoop in and scoop up whatever it was that Reddington wanted from the lair as part of his mysterious personal agenda that he had negotiated with Cooper.

None of them had expected a flash that looked like some kind of bright purple lightning to go off once they spread out and started clearing the property room by room... And certainly, none of them expected that once they double checked that room after the flash, they would find Samar gone and a cat in her place.  

A distinctly _unimpressed_ looking cat, for that matter, with gleaming green eyes and pitch black fur with orange flecks.  

Liz glanced warily across the room at the wood side table not far behind the cat that was now striding towards her.  

There, on the table, sat the ray gun they were looking for; pointing towards the door and still whirring softly. Liz shifted her gaze down to the cat now sitting at her feet and staring up at her. She was stuck somewhere halfway between laughing, and a pang of dread sinking deep in her stomach.

The cat was Samar.  

/*/*/*/*

The maniac was caught, bringing the case to a close... _Nearly._ Samar, and the four others who had been turned into cats before her, remained trapped in their feline state until it could be figured out how to turn them back again. The other four were being looked after together, in a Bureau safehouse with two agents and the scientist consultant who was madly trying to reverse engineer the ray gun, but Samar was a different matter entirely.

She was one of their own.

And while Liz and Ressler couldn't keep cats at their apartments, Aram certainly could, and he wasn't about to abandon Samar in that safe house.  

But then it was a question of _how_ to look after her.  

The scientist, Doctor Smith –or whatever his real name was that the CIA wouldn't tell them so as not to compromise the experiments he was also working on for them- now paced back and forth across the War Room after giving Samar a quick once over. Ressler, Liz, Aram, and Cooper stood gathered around Aram's desk, quietly watching and waiting for some kind of revelation from the eccentric but still kind man who had been assigned to work the case with them, only to end up leading every part short of kicking down doors.  

'Doctor, how much does she understand of what's going on?' Cooper's deep voice broke the silence as no such revelation seemed to come.    
'Well...' Doctor Smith's feet came to a thoughtful pause. 'So far all the other cats have varied in terms of how much human thought was retained,' he slowly began to explain, 'some are aware of everything going on, and they're basically just human brains trapped in cat bodies, but others...' The doctor trailed off for a moment rather than finish that particular train of thought. 'The one thing that has been common to all of them is that while they're in the bodies of cats, they have the physical needs of those bodies, regardless of how much they understand,' he quickly added next, his gaze flicking briefly to Samar and then back again, 'she'll sleep more, for example, but for how much she understands, you'll have to find out for yourselves.'  
'So you mean,' Ressler paused early in his sentence, glancing warily at the doctor for a moment before shifting his gaze over his shoulder; 'hey, Samar, can you, I don't know, lift a paw or something?'

The cat, now perched on Samar's usual desk chair, stared quite attentively back at them as every set of eyes in the room turned curiously to her. The gleaming, green eyes bore into their skulls, and the tip of her tail flicked sharply back and forth. Whether she could understand them or not it was quite clear; the Samar cat remained unimpressed with the situation. There was an air about her that one could only describe as 'snooty', the epitome of the typical feline haughtiness. It was almost as if Samar's smaller, fuzzy form was so irritated by the turn of the events, that she was going to stubbornly ignore them entirely.

Until she gave in, and let out the closest thing to a sigh that a cat could accomplish. One paw raised slowly, inch by inch off the chair, all the while that tail continued to flick unhappily, but at last the rest of the team had their answer.  

Samar was there, and she could understand them.  

She just couldn't talk back.

/*/*/*/*

Needless to say, Samar was far from enthused about jumping gracefully into a large, open-topped cardboard box so that Aram could carry her home, but as he pointed out –no taxi driver who picked him up from the Post Office would allow a cat to simply jump from the curb into the back seat, nor would any of his fellow apartment building inhabitants not be curious about a cat so obediently following him through the front door and up the stairs without some form of containment or a lead. The fact that she was a human in the wrong body, who could understand his instructions and follow them easily, was something they had to keep to themselves. As far as everybody else in the real world was concerned, Samar was simply a cat, and that was that.  

And so into the box she went, crouched down on all fours as low as she could get to the bottom of the box, with her gleaming eyes focused forwards in a deathly intensity like a cat stalking its prey.  

At last, as Aram entered the safety of home, the box was lowered to the tiled kitchen floor, and Samar was set free.  

One cautious paw at a time, she crept out of the box and began to slink across the tiles. She and Aram had been seeing each other long enough by now that there was nothing new in his apartment for her to explore and yet, from her now considerably lower height, everything seemed different. She was used to being near equal height with him, but now he towered over her. She was used to being able to help herself, to grab food out of the fridge or to reach for a mug and make herself a cup of tea, but now she wasn't tall enough, nor would her paws allow her to do so even if she was. Everything looked and felt different now.

Samar didn't like it one bit.  

Her eyes narrowed as she stared around the apartment in annoyance, not really sure what to do or even where to go.

'Ok, um,' Aram's voice jolted Samar from her train of thought. She glanced up, eyeing him standing in front of the fridge and peering inside, all too used to their usual routine of conversations across the apartment while they both made dinner and settled down for the evening. 'I'm going to guess that you don't want regular cat food out of a tin,' Aram continued to muse, still staring into the fridge rather than at where she sat by his feet, 'but you also can't have the sort of people food that normal cats can't eat, so...' He trailed off, furrowing his brow at the limited selection of things in the fridge that she could actually eat; 'do you want fish or chicken?'  

Silence fell across the apartment for a moment. It snapped Aram out of his usual dinner musings, prompting him to suddenly glance down at his feet.  

It was habit to expect Samar to respond but of course, now she couldn't. Not in the usual way, anyway.  

Aram shot an apologetic grimace in the direction of the gleaming green eyes glaring up at him.

'Oh, uh, right paw for fish, or left paw for chicken?' He quickly added. It took a moment, where once again she paused, the tip of her tail giving another involuntary, unimpressed flick, until her left paw slowly rose from the cool of the kitchen tiles. Aram gave a quick nod, pulling the chicken from the fridge and setting quickly to work; dicing it into bite size pieces and cooking it off with some light seasoning, all the while she continued lurking around his feet.

Aram hesitated once it was ready; Samar might have looked like a cat and meowed like a cat, but the reality was, she _wasn't_ a cat. Not really, anyway. No matter what she looked like, she wasn't about to act like a cat or appreciate being treated like a cat... And that was where it got complicated. No opposable thumbs on her paws meant Samar had to eat like a cat –which was to say, face first into her food- and though Aram had set her pieces of chicken on a regular human dinner plate rather than a plastic cat bowl, he wasn't sure where the best place was to put it down for her. On the floor made sense not just for cats, but because it would be easier for Samar to reach and eat it that way, but Aram was fairly certain she wouldn't appreciate it.

Not at _all._

Warily, he set the plate on the table, then retreated back to the kitchen. For a split second he considered asking if she wanted him to lift her up to reach it, but quickly thought the better of it –and for good reason too. Aram kept his gaze discreet, watching on from the kitchen and only half paying attention to the salad he was throwing together to go with his own serve of chicken. Samar crept ever closer to the table, pacing back and forth along one side as if trying to figure out the best way up. A moment later and she leapt upwards, first onto one of the chairs and next onto the table. Ever light and graceful on her paws, she strode a few more steps across the table top, casting a wary sniff over the dinner plate and then finally taking the first, delicate nibble. Having to eat like a cat was yet another part of the transformation that Samar didn't like, but needless to say she was glad that Aram hadn't set the plate on the floor, or even _suggested_ it, for that matter.  

Not to mention, she was hungry. After a full day of field work, dinner was probably the last thing she was going to be stubborn about when it came to adapting to being a cat.  

/*/*/*/*

Sleeping became the next dilemma for Samar's new cat form. After dinner she could easily jump up onto the couch and curl up next to Aram for a while as she normally did. She sat up, leaning into his side, as Aram loosely wrapped one arm around her and put on one of the movies he knew she liked. Samar made note of the movie choice; it was difficult for them to have a real conversation while she couldn't talk beyond lifting paws to choose between limited options, and even if she could talk, Samar didn't know what to say. She was frustrated and decidedly unhappy with having been turned into a cat, and even further still by the way it now made such simple tasks so difficult. Meanwhile, even though he _could_ talk, Aram wasn't sure what to say either. He knew how unhappy Samar was but at the same time, every helpful question he wanted to ask in a bid to make things easier for her, seemed like it would only end up making things worse because they also highlighted everything she could no longer do in the usual way... And so he stuck with a wary quiet, making his best estimate as often as he could, just as he had with dinner.

But with the movie, Samar was reminded of what she knew deep down; Aram really did want to try and make her feel better, and to a certain degree she did, until the movie credits began to roll and Aram was forced to ask another of those difficult questions that he really didn't want to ask.

'I don't know where you want to sleep, exactly,' he cautiously began. He rose from his seat carefully, so as not to push over the half asleep cat staring bleary eyed up at him from where she had been curled into his arm. 'I mean, you're a cat but you're also you, so you can sleep on my bed like you usually do if you want, but if that's weird, you don't have to,' Aram quickly attempted to explain. Samar paused, letting out a long yawn, before lazily pushing herself off the couch and skulking ahead of him towards the hallway. Aram scuttled along behind her, pulling a few extra blankets from the cupboard on the way past. He hesitated the moment he followed Samar into the bedroom, watching where she stopped suddenly at the foot of the bed and fixed her questioning gaze up at him. 'You're going to have to guide _me,_ here,' Aram added, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.

Deep down inside, she was still the Samar he knew and loved dearly, but that smaller, fuzzy form certainly did make things feel a little strange.  

Barely had Aram managed to finish that sentence though, when Samar leapt deftly up onto the bed. There was a certain elegance and agility about the way she moved that Aram had noticed earlier in the evening but now, even striding across the bed towards the pillow, he couldn't help but grin. Each step was purposeful, yet graceful. When she reached her usual pillow, just as he followed suit by clambering into his own side of the bed and pulling up the covers, Samar settled down beside him.  

And that was that.

But it didn't last long. A second later and she rolled, letting out the evening's umpteenth, quiet huff of frustration. Evidently, the way she was used to sleeping as a human, was far from comfortable for a cat. Aram watched, waiting warily for her to figure out the best spot before switching off the lights. Samar rolled and shuffled, eventually giving up on sleeping under the covers with her head on the pillow, and instead curling up in a ball on top of the duvet with her tail wrapped all the way around her until the tip tucked over her nose. Aram waited another couple of seconds to make sure she didn't need to move around again and then finally, he flicked off the lamp.

Darkness fell across the room, the sound quieting to little more than their breathing.  

Aram's arm reached out across the bed as his eyes slowly began to fall closed, his fingertips resting gently against the soft curves of Samar's ears.

In an instant, the pads of one paw slammed against the back of his hand to swat it away, and Aram jumped, jolted awake once more. A short, low growl echoed from the shadowy outline beside him, and Aram quickly retracted his hand. It was habit to reach out across the bed and wrap an arm around her as they slept, just as it was habit to pet any small animal near him and somehow, in his half asleep state the two instincts had collided... And Samar was not a fan, _at all._  

'Right, no ear scratching,' Aram sheepishly mumbled, 'sorry.' Another quiet huff came from the figure beside him, but otherwise Samar remained still... And both of them fell slowly asleep.   


	2. The Curious Case of the Missing Socks

**_THURSDAY NIGHT..._ **

Samar's eyes snapped open. She was awake, and not the bleary-eyed awake that went with being too hot or too cold, or the adrenaline rushed awake that went with a nightmare, but simply wide awake, alert, and ready to go, as if her sleep fuel tank was now full. She rose to her paws, an overwhelming bliss suddenly washing over her as she stretched, arching her back. It was the middle of the night, but she could see around the room easily. Samar padded softly across the bedcovers, unable to fight the instinct to wander around the apartment, or gently brush her waffly nose against Aram's cheek on the way past him.

He slept on. The sound of Samar's paws landing back onto the floorboards was barely audible.  

Samar began to prowl. There was an urge to check every inch of every room of the apartment, that she simply couldn't resist. It didn't even occur to her at first that her senses were heightened; not only could she see easily through the pitch black darkness, but she could also smell _everything._ That sense of smell was so strong, it felt like some kind of in built radar, and she could find things before she even truly realised they were there.

_Speaking of which..._

Samar went suddenly still. Her eyes, bright green beacons that flashed in the darkness, narrowed as she slinked past the couch, and a familiar smell wafted through her nostrils. Something was under there. She crouched down, tilting her head sideways as she slowly peered underneath.  

Socks. At least three of them, in fact, scattered under the couch as they would be if Aram had dropped them while sorting laundry and accidentally kicked them under. Samar extended a paw under the edge, trying to pull one out, but she was _just_ unable to reach. She rounded the couch, trying each of the three different socks from all different angles, but all three remained just out of reach. A soft growl erupted from Samar's throat.

Trying to pull those socks out had initially been a matter of curiosity... But now it was one of annoyance. Now she _had_ to get them out.   

She rounded back to the closest one, rolling onto her side, then twisting and stretching out her paws as far as she possibly could. It took some squirming –making Samar glad that nobody was watching- but one claw managed to catch the edge of one sock... Before coming loose again. It didn't help that the long tail she wasn't used to having, kept tangling about her legs or rolling under her, and generally getting in the way. Another growl of frustration echoed from Samar's throat and she tried to stretch further still, swatting at the sock until finally, it caught on her claws once more. She tugged, hard, pulling the sock back in a flash before it slipped away again, then leaping back onto her feet and pouncing on the fuzzy lump of charcoal grey fabric in one victorious instant, the second it was free. Samar eyed the sock; it was clean, aside from being a little musty after having probably been under there for a while. It smelled distinctly like Aram, but not with the sweaty stench of him having worn it before losing it. With her laundry sorting theory likely proven, she scooped the toe of the sock up with her teeth, and panned her gaze across the darkness of the living room, trying to find a clever place to leave it where Aram would find it.  

_Hmmm...._

Then after that, she just had to get the other two.  

/*/*/*/*

**_FRIDAY..._ **

Aram woke up to find Samar sound asleep, still on top of the bedcovers, but now on her side with all four paws stretched out in front of her, and purring softly in her sleep. Aram crept quietly out of bed and headed for the kitchen, struggling to hold back a grin. No matter how annoyed Samar was at being turned into a cat, Aram couldn't deny the fact that her feline form was a truly adorable one.

...Not that he was ever going to say that aloud, to _anyone_ , of course.  

His half asleep ponderings came to a sudden stop as he arrived in the kitchen, and the grin on his face vanished.  

There were three socks in a neat pile in the middle of the kitchen counter. Aram furrowed his brow in confusion; that was odd, and not in the least because he was entirely certain that there had been no socks on the counter when he went to bed the night before, but also because each of the three appeared to be one half of the pairs in his pile of odd socks that were missing their partners.  

Clearly, Samar hadn't slept the whole night through as he had.

Aram could only wonder _where_ on earth she had managed to find his missing socks during her middle of the night wanderings... Not to mention, how she had managed to reach the kitchen counter without any other logical point to jump onto on the way up. He left those questions swirling curiously in the back of his mind, going quietly about the usual morning routine so as to leave Samar sleeping in peace. Between showering, eating breakfast, packing his own lunch ready for work, and cooking up some fish to leave out on the table for Samar, Aram busied himself quietly until he was just about ready to leave, and still he hadn't heard a single peep from her.  

The four legged ball of flecked, dark fur finally sidled past the kitchen, paying Aram little attention and letting out a wide yawn before pausing, going deathly still. Her nose twitched once, twice, her heightened senses undoubtedly picking up the faint scent of the fish on the table. Samar's gleaming eyes snapped wide awake and she jumped, leaping up onto the chair and then the table as she had for dinner the night before. It was almost as if she had tunnel vision, darting immediately across the table to her breakfast and beginning to hungrily wolf it down. After her overnight prowling adventures, her stomach was rumbling.  

'Good morning,' Aram mused, once at least half of her breakfast had disappeared. Samar glanced up from her plate, noting the look of amusement on Aram's face as he glanced back and forth between her and the pile of socks on the counter. She tilted her head for a second, before turning away from her plate and beginning to stride forward. She didn't stop, not even as she approached the edge of the table. Aram's eyes went wide as her two front paws rose from the edge. There was nowhere else for her to go except off the end...

...But then so too did her back paws push off the table top, and Samar leapt through the air, landing with astoundingly graceful ease on the counter in front of him.

Aram gaped for a second in surprise. At perhaps six or seven feet, the distance was perhaps not impossible for a cat to leap in a single bound, but it was certainly noteworthy. Samar crept those few steps further across the counter, finally coming to a stop right in front of him. She sat back on her haunches, tilting her head slightly sideways and staring up at him. She seemed inordinately pleased with herself; though whether that was over her long distance leap or her mysterious sock retrieval, Aram wasn't sure.  

'I was going to ask how you got up here on the counter, but I guess that answers that,' Aram chuckled softly. He gestured next to the pile of socks; 'where did these come from?' Samar simply tilted her head further still, blinking up at him all too innocently for Aram's taste. A split second later and she turned, nearly flicking Aram in the face with the tip of her tail, before bounding off the edge of the counter and striding deftly across the living room towards the couch. She crouched down on all fours, far more gracefully than the rolling and twisting of the night's attempts to wrestle the socks out from underneath, and reached one paw just under the edge to demonstrate.  

'They were under the couch the whole time?' Aram asked as he quickly followed across the room behind her. Samar pulled her paw back, sitting up on her haunches again, and giving a lopsided bob of her head in the attempt to nod. 'Huh,' Aram murmured to himself. He crouched down next to her, peeking under the edge of the couch out of sheer curiosity for a moment, then glanced back at her. His eyes crinkled, and a wry smile began to etch its way across his face; 'and you just happened to wake up overnight and find them?' He mused. Samar's head bobbed again, but this time her ears turned back in annoyance. Aram quickly steeled himself, wiping the smile off his face; that she had apparently spent the night overtaken by the instinct to prowl like a real cat was all too amusing, but he wasn't about to add insult to injury by laughing... Well, by laughing _too_ much, anyway.  

'Ok, I have to go,' Aram said, quickly jumping back to his feet and reaching for his backpack where it sat at the edge of the couch. He glanced back, offering Samar a small smile; 'I, uh, topped up your water,' he added, 'and I left a blanket by the window in case you want to lie in the sunshine instead of on the bed-' Aram paused mid-sentence, instantly wincing and wondering if that was going one step too far. Samar simply stared back at him. One ear twitched like she couldn't quite decide how she felt about that, but otherwise she made no protest. Neither of them wanted for her to have to stay at home; Samar hated being out of the field and they both knew it. But the reality was, even if Aram did take her to work she would still be limited to the office and out of the field while she remained a cat, and she hated being put in the box that shuttled her back and forth between home and office even more.  

That didn't stop Aram from feeling bad for her, however.  

He hesitated, watching her for a moment longer. It took every ounce of self-restraint that Aram had, to stop himself from reaching down to scratch her ears. He wanted to be able to reassure her somehow, or even to simply express some kind of affection for the woman he loved and who was trapped in the wrong form, but nothing quite seemed right. Aram must have hovered there, hesitating too long a moment in his internal debate, for Samar nudged forwards, nuzzling her waffly nose against his hand. She allowed his fingertips to run along the edge of her jaw, resting there on the edge of her cheek as they normally did when he brushed those loose strands of hair out her face and back behind her ear before kissing her. Samar tilted her head sideways, leaning contently into his hand as a low purr echoed softly from her throat. Aram crouched down again, just long enough to dot a kiss to the top of her head, right between her ears.  

'Hopefully Doctor Smith will figure out how to switch you back,' he murmured. Samar let out a mew of agreement, a little louder this time, and nudged her nose against his cheek; a gesture Aram took to mean a reluctant 'go, or you'll be late.' Standing up straight again, he adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulder, taking one last glance back at her before darting quickly out of the apartment.  

Samar jumped up on to the window ledge, watching Aram pedal away down the street on his bicycle until he disappeared from view. Then she turned on the spot, staring half-heartedly around the room and wondering what to do next. The blanket Aram had left there caught her eye, and she tilted her head, contemplating that for a second... The morning sunlight streaming in through the window warmed her fur, soothing her. Another yawn escaped her; now with a full belly, she was growing sleepy again.  

Perhaps a nap in the sunshine wasn't such a bad idea after all.

 _Though..._ Samar jumped down from the ledge again, crossing the room, and leaping back up onto the couch instead. She pounced on the navy blue throw cushion, taking its corner in her teeth and dragging it down and across the room, back towards the window.

She had all day. She might as well make herself comfortable.


	3. Some Stolen Coffee, and the Potentially Problematic Neighbour

**_SATURDAY..._ **

Day three of being a cat, and a routine was finally taking shape. No longer was it a matter of being forced to adapt and figuring out how to do everything all over again but rather, it was now a matter of simply getting on with it -which was not to say that Samar was at all content with being a cat now, but at least the frustration of finding her boundaries between human and cat was finally starting to fade. It certainly eased some of the uncomfortable tension in the air of Aram's apartment –right in time for the weekend.

When she woke up that morning –on the window ledge again this time, after switching nap spots each of the three times she went prowling through the night- it was a different scent that hit her nostrils first.  

Not the smell of breakfast left on the table for her by Aram during his early morning, pre-work rush, but one that was far more typical of a relaxed Aram enjoying the slowness of a Saturday morning instead.

_Coffee._

Samar lurched off the window ledge, and raced across the room in a flash towards where Aram sat on the couch, sleepily sipping from his freshly steaming mug. She jumped up next to him, her nose twitching madly as she desperately reached up with one paw; as a human, coffee was her sweet elixir of life, but as a cat so far, she had been completely deprived of it. But now, that smell of fresh coffee –not just the remnants left in the bottom of the coffee machine the morning before- through her heightened sense of smell was driving Samar wild. She pawed at the mug in Aram's hand, barely even noticing that in her desperate attempt to reach it, she was clambering off the couch, up onto his knees, then rising as far as she could on her back legs with her remaining front paw clinging to the chest of his t-shirt.  

'Samar,' Aram protested –albeit with a laugh. He leaned back on the couch, stretching out to hold the mug as far out of her reach as he could. 'You can't have coffee while you're a cat.' Samar paused, pulling back her paw and sitting back on her haunches on top of his knees again. Being turned into a cat was one thing, but being banned from coffee for however long she was stuck that way too? That was just adding miserable insult to incredibly annoying injury. Samar blinked up at him, eyes dejectedly wide and pleading like something out of an animated children's movie. The phrase was puppy dog eyes, but _surely_ cats could do it too. Aram bit his lip, struggling to steel himself and say no even when he knew he was supposed to.  

'No,' he repeated, voice wavering slightly as he spoke, 'Doctor Smith said chocolate will make you sick while you're a cat, so coffee will probably do the same.' Samar scowled, and if she could have _tutted_ in her current form, she probably would have done that as well. She turned, moving off Aram's knees and strutting across the couch away from him in annoyance, then proceeded to stare him down from the opposite end instead. The tactic of being sweet and adorable wasn't working. It was time to try sneakiness instead. Aram eyed that look on her face with apprehension, knowing it was the closest thing to a glare that she could muster. He rose from the couch and scuttled quickly towards the kitchen in the search for, well, _any_ alternative that would both distract and appease her.  

It didn't even cross his mind not to leave the coffee cup behind on the side table.

But then again, that was precisely what Samar had anticipated.  

The second Aram pulled open that fridge door and blocked his view of the couch, Samar pounced. She leapt across the couch towards that side table, front paws landing on the arm rest and leaning over to poke her nose into the coffee cup, lapping up every last drop of that sweet, caffeinated liquid gold that her tongue could reach.  

It took barely seconds for the suspicious silence to send hairs prickling on the back of Aram's neck and prompt him to look back again, but seconds was all that Samar needed. Aram lunged across the room with a yelp, reaching out to pull away the coffee mug but it was too late. Samar had already drained at least half of it. She moved back from the armrest, sitting up straight on the couch cushions and delicately cleaning her whiskers with the back of one paw; the picture of haughty feline smugness. Aram simply plucked the mug from the table, staring in utter dismay at the remainder of the coffee swirling in the bottom. All he could do was slowly shake his head in disbelief, then quickly –and wordlessly- whip his phone out of his pocket and try to figure out what happened if cats drank coffee –and exactly how much coffee it took to get that ball rolling.

Moment later and Aram had his answer; a near half mug of coffee would result in either severe organ damage or, according to one Reddit thread, extreme hyperactivity. Aram could practically feel his stomach plummeting inside; neither option sounded pleasant, but at least one was guaranteed.  

And now it was simply a question of waiting and seeing _which_ one that would be.  

/*/*/*/*

The first thing Samar noticed was one ear beginning to twitch. Then her eyes began to flicker wildly, and then all of a sudden she could barely focus on any one thing for longer than two seconds. Out of nowhere, it felt like some twisted mix of an adrenaline rush and an electric shock zapped through her all at once, and she couldn't sit still.  

The next thing Aram noticed was a blur of dark fur zooming past him, vaguely reminiscent of The Flash. The blur hurtled back and forth past him, zigzagged all across the living room, and lapped around and around the couch. Aram's eyes went wide and he froze, watching Samar go; he was almost afraid to take a step forwards, out of sheer awareness of the fact that she could probably zoom from the other side of the room to right under his foot in half a second and accidentally end up stepped on before he even knew she was there.  

Well, at least that question was answered. And at least, in the scheme of things, the hyperactivity was probably better than the organ damage...

...But that didn't mean it wasn't still terrifying.  

'Hey....' Aram cautiously began. In all honesty, though part of him was wary, he couldn't deny the part of him that was equally, if not even more, amused by the whole thing. 'Samar?' The dark blur currently leaping over the back of the couch and flying halfway across the room, came to a screeching halt as she landed and then whipped around, blinking at him for a second. All her speckled, usually _sleek_ fur stood out on end, windblown by the rushing back and forth. Her eyes were wide with a feverish alertness, and her breathing was fast and shallow. Aram hated to think how fast her heart had to be racing in that moment, but then she lurched forwards again, sprinting towards him. Aram braced himself, having no idea where she was planning to go or if he was about to take some kind of hurtling impact, as Samar's paws leapt from the floor and sent her flying again... Finally landing in the centre of the dining table, sitting back on her haunches, and blinking up at him further still. Aram let out the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding, forcing himself to remember that he actually had no idea what it was he was wanting to say to her, even though she was sitting there, staring up at him expectantly. Now up close, he could see the way her tiny frame shook with her rapid breathing.  She was raring to keep going.

There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the effects of the coffee she had ingested. All he really could do was wait it out, until Samar burned it all off, inevitably crashing, burning and probably sleeping for the rest of the afternoon.  

And of course, it went without saying that until she could resume her human form, Aram was going to have to be a _lot_ more careful with his coffee cups.  

/*/*/*/*

It took all of seconds for Samar to bolt back off the table and resume her hyperactive antics, but nearly an _hour_ for it to wear off. Aram made a point of staying as far out of her way as he could, knowing that stopping her would probably end up with one –if not both- of them getting hurt... And so for fifty three minutes Aram stuck to one end of the couch with his nose buried in his laptop, and he waited.

And slowly but surely, Samar's laps around the room, leaps over the furniture, and wrestling with throw pillows and floor rugs, began to decelerate. She jumped up onto the couch, feeling as if the exhaustion had suddenly hit her like a freight train. Eyes drooping, she sat still next to Aram for a moment, catching her breath... Then she began to lean forwards, a little further with every second until she was only half sitting up with her head squashed face first into a pillow, and within seconds, she was out cold. It didn't matter how much Aram moved around or loud he was, for the next few hours Samar slept on. She purred faintly under her breath, but for all the time she continued to snooze, and no matter how uncomfortable she looked in that position, Samar barely moved a muscle.  

For a moment, Aram had to lean in next to her and watch, just to make sure she was still breathing.

It wasn't until around four hours later, when the sound of a knock on Aram's door came floating through the apartment, that Samar finally began to stir.  

Aram meanwhile, scuttled to his front door, wondering who on earth would be dropping by unannounced at nearly six o'clock on a Saturday evening.  

'Uh, hi Emma,' he greeted the woman on the other side of his door, the tone of pleasant surprise clear in his voice. Emma, his neighbour and the newest addition to the building's residents, beamed back at him.    
'Hi.' She broke into a sheepish grin, but the voice was as bubbly as ever; 'I know I keep asking you a lot of favours lately, but could you spare some juice?'

Samar cracked one eye open, watching on skeptically as the young, blonde, and _very_ enthusiastic woman appeared behind Aram, leading the way from the front door and towards the counter islands that separated living room from kitchen. She had heard about this new neighbour, but never seen her before. Samar didn't trust her at all; per Aram's description, the young woman was perfectly polite, friendly, and was a significant improvement over her apartment's previous tenant in that she didn't blast her TV at maximum volume at ridiculous hours of the night, but she also seemed to have taken a liking to Aram. At least once, if not twice, every week she seemed to find an excuse to stop by and chat. She was blatant in her hints that she was interested, no matter the fact that every time Aram continued to politely indulge her in conversation for a few minutes before promptly sending her on her way. Samar's gleaming eyes were wide awake and alert now, though she kept her head down, watching with a discrete intensity from her position crouched at the end of the couch, peering over the edge of the armrest as Aram proceeded to search through the fridge.  

For once, being a cat presented an advantage; being able to watch the potentially problematic neighbour openly flirt with Aram while never realising that his girlfriend was right there.  

'Is orange juice ok?' His voice floated back from behind the fridge door.    
'Anything's fine,' Emma brightly chirped in response. 'Awww,' she then began to coo, as she panned her gaze around the apartment and spotted Samar there on the couch. 'Aram, I didn't know you had a cat.' She practically pranced across the room, eagerly reaching out with one hand; 'she's so cute.'    
'Ah, no, she belongs to a friend of mine. I'm just looking after her for a while,' Aram quickly replied. It was the best explanation he could think of as to why he suddenly had a cat now and hopefully _wouldn't_ have one anymore relatively soon. He glanced back past the door to her, heart skipping a frantic beat at the sight of Emma's outstretched hand; 'and I wouldn't do that,' he hurriedly added, 'she's a bit picky with people touching her-' Samar's eyes snapped wide open and she leapt off the couch, but not quite fast enough; Emma's fingertips grazed softly across the top of her head before Aram could even finish the sentence. An angry yowl escaped Samar's throat and she bolted, off the couch and past Emma's legs, leaping in a single bound up to the safety of the top of the bookshelf.  

'Aw, she just needs time to warm up to people,' the younger woman continued to coo. Her gaze followed Samar's dash across the room; 'isn't that right, sweetie?' Emma reached up to her once again, and Samar could practically feel her blood boil. Reaching out the first time to pet an animal might have been understandable, but going for a _second_ attempt after the creature very clearly preferred to stay away? Samar's paw whipped out instinctively, ready to swat that hand away as she had swatted away Aram's hand during her first night trapped in that wrong body.  

It all happened so fast, Samar didn't even notice her claws extend from her paw.

_'Ow.'_ Claws connected with skin and Emma let out a yelp of pain.    
_'Samar,'_ Aram gasped, instantly rushing across the room towards them. At the foot of the bookshelf he glared up at her; he loved Samar to the end of the earth and then some, but after she had stolen his coffee, spent nearly an hour going berserk in his living room, and now apparently having scratched his neighbour, Aram couldn't deny a certain level of exasperation simmering within. 'Was that _really_ necessary?'

It hadn't been intended but in the scheme of things, and though she at least now regretted having swindled Aram's coffee earlier, Samar felt no shame for having accidentally scratched the woman who was chasing and pestering her. Her tail flicked back and forth in a twisted mix of irritation and satisfaction, and she slinked further back on the shelf, even further out of reach. From up there, she had a full view of the entire kitchen and living room, and she had to admit... It was kind of nice after spending so much time idling around not even a foot high off the ground.  

Between that, and being well out of reach of the nosy neighbour, and Samar was _quite_ content up there on the top of that shelf.  

'Sorry,' Aram murmured, shifting his gaze back to Emma and the droplet of blood rolling down from the scratch on the back of her hand; 'do you need a bandaid?'    
'It'll be fine,' the younger woman said softly, shaking her head. She beamed up at Samar, apparently not at all fazed by the scratch; 'maybe she'll let me cuddle her some other time.' That was Aram's cue to let out an uneasy laugh at the way she seemed to be _so_ oblivious to the idea of taking a hint. Quickly shaking his own head in sheer bewilderment, Aram scuttled back to the kitchen to grasp the juice he had left behind, and then hand it to her.  

From on top of the shelf Samar watched on, eyes narrowed, as Aram _finally_ showed his nosy neighbour out of the apartment, all the while internally berating himself for having not done it sooner.  

It wasn't until he disappeared from view, rounding the corner out of the living room and into the entry hall, that Samar finally peered over the edge of the bookshelf, ready to jump down again. A sudden, unexpected feeling of apprehension sank deep in her stomach; she hadn't spared a single second's thought for how high the shelf was when she first jumped up, but now... Looking down all of a sudden, it was daunting. The top of the bookshelf was a solid six feet high –a distance Samar already knew she could jump if it was crossing from dining table to kitchen counter, but height was a different matter. There was nothing else to jump onto half way down. It was a straight six foot free fall from shelf to floor.

Her human thoughts and instincts were locked fiercely in battle with those of her feline form, and while it was her cat instincts that had led her to jump so high and then extend her claws, it was her human eyes that now looked down, and her human brain that wasn't so believing of the catchphrase that cats always landed on their feet.  

'Are you _still_ up there?' Aram's voice jolted Samar from her train of thought, the jump nearly toppling her off the edge of the shelf. She steadied herself, taking a few steps backwards to the back of the shelf, then stared across the room at where he had rounded the corner back into the room again and then paused in the middle. 'You can't get down, can you?' He asked, softer this time. Aram stifled a laugh; Samar hated feeling unable to do things for herself. Between that and the fact that he always struggled holding a grudge for long, Aram figured that the annoyance she was feeling at not being able to jump down was by far comeuppance enough for having stolen his coffee and driven him crazy earlier in the day. Laughing at her on top of that would only be adding insult to injury. 'If I help you down, are you going to scratch me?'

Samar blinked, but her ears remained semi-relaxed and pointed forwards. Aram took that to mean yes, it was safe to lift her down from the shelf. He pulled over a dining chair, and stepped up, reaching out with both hands. For a second, Samar remained sitting at the back of the shelf, eyeing him warily. Then she let out a sigh, bowing her head and reluctantly slinking forwards. Aram wrapped his arms carefully around her, plucking her from the shelf then at last, setting her back on the couch cushions and wearily dropping down beside her.  

And there they both sat, reflecting on the day and neither of them quite able to meet the other's eye.  

All they could really do was hope that the second half of the weekend wouldn't be quite so... _Eventful._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funnily enough, I did actually spend way too much time trying to figure out what happens if a cat drinks coffee, and I did in fact find [this hilarious Reddit thread.](https://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/1icrl4/my_cat_drank_my_coffee_while_i_wasnt_looking_this/) It's made even better by the fact that the cat pictured at the top of it even looks a little like how I imagine Cat Samar! :D


	4. The Claws in the Carpet

**_MONDAY..._ **

By the time the working week rolled around again, Samar was _still_ stuck in her tiny, four-legged, dark-furred state. Once again, she perched on the window ledge after breakfast and watched Aram pedal away down the street, and once again she curled up for a nap in that cozy, warm morning sunshine streaming through the window once Aram disappeared from view.

That was the morning routine that seemed to be working thus far, and so Samar figured it may as well continue.

But what woke her up from that nap wasn't so routine this time around. It was an unfamiliar feeling that washed over her. It wasn't hunger or thirst, warmth or cold, fatigue or a burst of energy. It was an intense discomfort in her paws, coupled with a sudden, instinctive compulsion to scratch, and it was overwhelming. It was like some kind of desperate need to itch, but not the kind that could be resolved by scratching... Well, not in the traditional, _human_ sense.  

Once again, Samar's human brain was at war with the instincts of her feline form. There was nothing in the apartment she could scratch without causing damage but like a human itch, trying to resist that need to scratch only seemed to _intensify_ the urge rather than the reverse. Samar prowled around the apartment; all over the living room, in and out of the bathroom and bedroom, desperately trying to find something safe to scratch but even as she moved, she could feel her claws extending into rugs or bath mats and catching there every time she tried to take another step forward. Trying to stop them was painful, regardless of the fact that she knew better. Samar hesitated, wincing and hating the fact that she was stuck with that urge that was so intense it was paralysing, thwarting her ability to concentrate on anything else.  

Not wanting even to look at what she was doing, Samar turned her head away and shut her eyes, but extended one paw forwards and allowed those claws to sink into the rug under the living room coffee table. Claws dug into the rug and Samar slowly but surely pulled the paw back.  

The sound of razor sharp claws grating across those fibres rang agonisingly loud in her ears, but the feeling... The sheer relief –and even pleasure, for that matter- that shot through her paw was _euphoric._ She hated the fact that it felt so, _so_ good but after that... There was nothing Samar could do to stop herself.  

/*/*/*/*

Yet another day of the taskforce trying to operate and catch up on case reports with one member out of action, and Aram felt overloaded. He had suspects being tracked on one monitor, case reports being written on another, and facial recognition searches being run in the background. His fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to keep up with the demand for his attention during Cooper's latest briefing, all the while his mind was elsewhere.  

Honestly, Aram had thought that Samar's time as a cat would be over by now.  

Sure, there were moments of amusement dotted in amongst the frustration, but the novelty was starting to wear thin. He missed her bursts of sharp wit and dry humour as they went about their daily routines and her sleepy, soft murmurings as the lights flickered out at night and the sunlight streamed through the curtains in the morning. Samar wasn't completely gone; even as a cat, she could express a certain level of sass or affection –depending on her mood in the given moment- with her facial expressions or by choosing whether or not to curl up next to him, but it wasn't the same without the ability to speak and hold a real conversation. Aram wanted to be able to talk to her properly, to hold her close as they fell asleep, or even to simply cook dinner and do the washing up together again... And he knew she missed those things too.  

His mind was so preoccupied with wistfully thinking back to everything more than five days earlier, that he completely missed the sound of the elevator doors rumbling open.  

'Director Cooper,' that soft but eager voice of the eccentric scientist came hurtling through the air towards them from the elevator. Cooper turned on the spot where he stood in the middle of the war room, one curious eyebrow raised. Aram's gaze hurriedly followed suit, watching on as Doctor Smith, out of breath from having apparently sprinted through the entire Post Office to reach them, finally stopped in front of his desk; 'Director Cooper, we have a revelation. The first of our victims turned into cats, reverted to his human form last night,' he exclaimed. Scattered around Cooper, Aram, Liz and Ressler all exchanged looks of mixed wariness and excitement.    
'You reverse engineered the ray gun?' Ressler asked.  
'No, not at all.' Doctor Smith quickly shook his head, his patches of spiky grey hair flickering around his ears as he moved; 'but it seems its power isn't everlasting as we first thought. The transformation only lasted a week before our first victim reverted,' he explained, 'if the pattern holds, our second victim should transform back to his human state tonight.'  
'And Samar should do the same in another three days or so,' Aram followed along with the train of thought easily.

He broke into a grin of utter relief; knowing that Samar's remaining days as a cat were numbered, would be a weight off _both_ their shoulders.

/*/*/*/*

Aram felt as if he could hardly open his front door fast enough. The announcement that Samar was now more or less guaranteed to return to her human state –so long as she waited a few more days- hadn't left his mind all day. Somehow, from the second Aram had been able to leave the Post Office to go home, he had found himself pedaling his bike faster than ever before. He knew how badly Samar wanted things to go back to normal, and Aram couldn't wait to be able to tell her.  

After fumbling with the lock for what felt like an eternity and a half, he pushed open the door and scuttled down the hallway eagerly. The grin was stretched wide, practically ear to ear across his face. He barely even noticed his backpack sliding off his shoulder and landing softly on the hallway floor behind him.

...And then Aram nearly tripped over his own feet as he came to a screeching halt, his grin faltering as he spotted Samar sitting in the middle of the living room next to the rug, her ears drooping forwards and her head bowed in shame. Aram hesitated, now all too cautious to move just enough past her to see what she was so miserable about; the corner of the rug frayed, and a patch just next to it worn down until it was _just_ shy of a gaping hole.  

For a second, every frustrating moment from the last few days flashed through his brain at once, and Aram was speechless. He knew deep down that she couldn't really control the cat instincts when they took over, but that almost _cat_ sized, threadbare patch in the rug was the last straw.  

Aram needed a minute.  

Or maybe five... Just to breathe and let that wave of annoyance wash over him and then dissipate as quickly as it came, as they always did.  

'Ok, uh,' Aram began, pausing mid-sentence to take a breath and forcing himself to look calm in the face of Samar's gloomy expression, 'I'm going to duck out again for a little while, and then I'll be back.' Aram swivelled on the spot, grasping his backpack and scurrying out of the apartment even faster than he had scuttled in, leaving Samar still sitting there, staring forlornly at her claw torn patch.

/*/*/*/*

Thankfully, Aram wasn't wrong when he said he would be back and better yet –it had only taken half that time for his frustration to subside. As soon as he remembered just how old the rug was and how much cheaper and easier it would be to replace than say, the whole couch, Aram felt better. Even with Samar currently lacking the ability to speak, Aram was fairly certain he could figure out what had happened once he took those few minutes to think it over; she hadn't been able to fight the urge to scratch but at the very least, she had tried to focus the inevitable damage on the least of the evils, so to speak.

By the time Aram returned home, he was almost regretting the purchase made in frustration while he was out.  

 _Almost._  

He let himself back into the apartment, calmer and slower this time, warily clutching his purchase in one hand. He rounded the corner from the hallway back into the living room, breaking into a cautious smile as he spotted Samar now curled up at one end of the couch –but notably _awake_ and waiting for him.  

'Hey...' Aram began, shuffling sheepishly on his feet. Those gleaming green eyes peered over the armrest, eyeballing the item in his hand. Aram took a few steps further in, setting it down carefully on the floorboards between the counter island and the dining table, and Samar hopped off the couch, slinking towards it. The look on her face was hard to read, as if she was still berating herself for the scratched up rug, but wasn't happy about the item on the floor between them now either.  

A scratching post. Aram had gone down to the local pet supply store, and bought an honest to goodness _scratching post._  

It wasn't the fanciest scratching post either of them had ever seen, but as far as simpler scratching posts went, it wasn't bad at all. It was nicer than a plain, rope bound pole on a flat square base. Rather, the base was a small box with a hole in one side, and the post sat on top with another flat panel across the top of that again. If she ever felt so inclined, Samar had the option not just to scratch, but to hide or sit up high as well.  

Samar sat up on her haunches, her glare flickering back and forth between the post and Aram now leaning back against the counter edge, slowly sliding down until he too, sat on the floor next to it.  

 _'Please_ don't hate me for this,' he softly spoke again. Samar's gleaming eyes flickered back to him again but this time they focused on him; she was listening intently. 'I'm pretty sure you didn't _intentionally_ put a hole in the rug,' Aram slowly added. Samar tipped her head in the best nod she could muster and just like that, the air between them felt a little clearer. Aram knew, and Samar knew that he knew. 'But since your cat instincts are rivalling your human ones, let's just say this is here to help so you don't have to fight with yourself,' he finally concluded. Aram broke into a tiny, wary smile; the scratching post wasn't at all a punishment. Rather, it was an acknowledgement of the struggle he was sure she had faced earlier in the day, and a potential solution should the dilemma ever rear its ugly head again.  

Aram could only hope that Samar understood that rather than taking it as an insult.  

'I do have some good news to tell you though,' he warily, continued, as Samar made no response besides glancing thoughtfully at the post again. 'Doctor Smith told us today that the first victim turned back human last night-' Samar's gaze instantly snapped to his and her eyes widened '-the cat ray wears off after a week or so, so hopefully you only have to put up with this for a few more days.'  

Samar simply stared back at him, not sure how to respond. For a moment, she had honestly started to wonder if she would be stuck as a cat forever. No noise or gesture that she could make as a cat, seemed anywhere near enough to express how ecstatic she was at the knowledge that she would _definitely_ be human again –and soon, too.  

Just like that, everything that was annoying about being turned into a cat, was not so any longer. Now that she knew it had a definitive end point, the anxious weight of having to wonder or wait and see was gone, leaving behind nothing but the reality of waiting out those last couple of days and enjoying the break from the real world.  

If cats could smile, Aram would have sworn that Samar had just broken into a wide, mischievous grin. She reached towards the scratching post with one paw, allowing her claws to sink into it and enjoying that feeling of sheer, consequence free destruction. A second later, and she was up on her back legs, both front paws tearing away at the rough, sisal rope that looped all the way around the post. The feeling was still joyous, as was jumping up on to the box and rubbing her sides along the post to soothe every inch of her fur that she could reach. There was only one spot Samar couldn't quite scratch in one way or another; a tiny patch on the back of her neck, just past her ears that drove her absolutely crazy. She couldn't reach it with her front paws, her back paws, nor could she twist at the right angle to rub it against anything else to relieve that prickling patch of skin.  

'Need a hand, there?' Aram chuckled, watching her twist and turn in the attempt to scratch her neck against the post. Samar paused, narrowing her eyes at him for a second, but ultimately gave in. She slinked forwards, pushing her forehead into his knee as Aram reached out, gently scratching that difficult spot. A deep sigh of contentment escaped her, and Samar pushed back against his hand, forcing his fingertips harder against her fur. It was another itch of the day relieved, almost as gloriously as the one that had left a threadbare patch in the rug and all of a sudden, Samar could not for the life of her figure out why she had resisted allowing Aram to properly pet her cat form before. Without even realising it, she was climbing her way onto Aram's knees and squashing her face into his chest, all the while he held her close, resting his head atop hers and running both hands softly through her fur. 'I miss you being able to talk back,' he murmured to her. Samar tilted her head, gazing up at him and nudging her nose gently against his cheek.  

Now, they would be able to talk again soon enough.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual reference for the shape of the scratching post [here.](https://s7d1.scene7.com/is/image/PETCO/2131979-center-1) I was imagining it in more of a light grey colour rather than the weird light salmon colour in the picture, but you get the idea :)


	5. Bells and Sirens

**_TUESDAY..._ **

The knowledge that Samar's feline days were numbered was an even greater weight off her and Aram's shoulders than either of them could have imagined. The anxiety of wondering if she would be stuck that way forever was gone, and now Samar was at peace with her current, temporary form.  

In fact, she was even starting to have a little fun with it.  

The naps in the morning sunshine had always been enjoyable, but now so too was running laps and climbing over furniture to let out the bursts of energy that were pent up from the lack of field work over the last few days. Samar had been trying to hold it in, determined to feel as if she was maintaining some shred of dignity rather than giving in and delving into what Aram had jokingly labelled 'full cat mode', but the reality was that keeping that energy bottled up was _hard._ By contrast, letting it out now and getting the exercise was just as satisfying as having relieved the urge to scratch the day before.  

And, scampering around, keeping Aram on his toes was _fun._  

He had watched as she rushed back and forth all around the apartment that morning before work, pouncing on and wrestling with the one toy from the handful that had come with the scratching post, that he was pretty sure was her favourite. It was funny to watch her let loose and embrace her time as a cat at last, especially when it resulted in the war of Samar versus the tiny, green fabric mouse.  

Samar meanwhile, was adamant that the mouse needed to be destroyed. Contrary to Aram's belief in watching her, that mouse was far from her favourite. Of all the toys, that mouse was the only one with a bell –and Samar _hated_ that bell. Sewn tightly onto the back of the mouse's neck, that little, metallic menace jingled and jangled every time Samar so much as _brushed_ past the damn thing during her prowling. The shrill, ear-splitting noise it made pierced her ears, sending her from perfectly calm to infuriated in all of a nanosecond.  

The mouse itself wasn't so bad, but that _bell..._  

It had _definitely_ needed to be destroyed.  

And so Samar pounced, and she wrestled, and she chased after it every time she accidentally sent it sliding across the floor, digging in her claws and gnawing at it with her teeth, desperately trying to tear off that repulsive, silver bauble... Until finally, that last tether of a stitch holding that bell to the mouse snapped, sending the bell rolling and rattling across the living room floor. Samar scooped up the mouse and then the bell in her teeth, promptly depositing both at Aram's feet with smug, victorious gusto. She sat in front of them, staring pointedly up at him where he stood in the middle of the kitchen. He was dumbfounded, and struggling both not to laugh, and in trying to translate what on earth she was trying to tell him by dumping the now _shredded_ fabric mouse at his feet.  

'Do you want that fixed or thrown in the trash?' He asked, not even bothering to stifle the laugh; 'because I don't think I can fix that, but I can go and buy another one if you really want me to.' Samar's eyes narrowed, her stare quickly turning into a distinct glare. She turned on the spot, flicking up her tail to him, and marched towards the small trash can in the corner of the kitchen -the kind with a foot pedal that allowed people to flip open the lid without even needing to touch it with a single hand. Glancing back just for a second to glare at Aram again, one front paw slammed down on the pedal, prompting the lid above her head to fly open.

Aram got the hint.

Still chuckling, he scooped up the mouse and the bell, and tossed both into the can... And off Samar scampered again.  

When Aram returned home after work, Samar still seemed to be enjoying alternating between napping and racing around. She scampered back and forth while he cooked up more chicken for dinner, and she took a nap curled up next to him on the couch after he finished the washing up. There was another short stint of bounding back and forth using the bed as a springboard to the floor while she waited for Aram to finish brushing his teeth, but then as soon as Aram clambered under the covers, Samar was already up on the pillow next to him again, and waiting for him to switch off the lamp.  

Hours passed. Samar fell asleep quickly, though Aram remained restless for a little while before finally drifting off into a deeper slumber. The night before, Samar had discovered the comfort of sleeping on top of him and sure, Aram was used to Samar's human form drifting into his half of the bed overnight, but this was different. Now she was a ball of particularly warm, extra thick fluff, and even though her small frame wasn't overly heavy, when Aram was lying on his back and Samar was curled up right in the centre of his chest, it still left him sweltering, squashed, and with a fuzzy tail right under his nose all at once. Thankfully it was only one rotation of many possible nap spots dotted between her night prowling, rather than a position she slept in all night... Because she had done it the night before, and she was doing it again now.  

...Which was to say, she was doing it again now, _until_ she awoke to a familiar but unpleasant smell wafting through her nostrils.  

Her eyes snapped wide open, her gleaming eyes flashing like two miniature, green beacons flashing through the otherwise pitch black darkness of the bedroom. She uncurled herself, standing up on Aram's chest and stretching for a second before creeping lightly across the bedcovers to the floorboards. She crossed the room, nose slightly raised as she tried to track the smell; it was distant enough that Aram probably wouldn't notice, but close enough that her own heightened sense of smell most definitely could. She paused, panning her gaze around the room and settling it on the window. The bedroom window didn't have as wide a ledge as the one in the living room so she couldn't jump onto it unless it was open... But the chair in the corner of the room next to it, which in most cases was relegated the role of little more than laundry holder, was close enough. Samar jumped up onto the chair, pushing up onto her hind legs and pushing the curtain away with her front paws so that she could lean them onto the narrow ledge of the window and peer outside.  

Smoke. A slim trail of smoke billowing out through a crack in the window of the neighbouring apartment.

 _...Emma's_ apartment.  

Samar's eyes widened in alarm. She bounded off the chair in an instant, and then back up onto the bed, landing with a soft thud on top of Aram. Not that the jump didn't already prompt him to start to stir, but Samar let out a loud, warning yowl just to speed up the process.

Aram woke with a jump.

'Wha- what's going on?' He yelped in response. He stared up, barely able to see the anything more than Samar's gleaming eyes or the shadowy outline of her figure standing on top of his chest. She mewed again, softer this time, but still firm enough to make her point; he needed to wake up, and quickly. She bounded off his chest, leaving Aram to sleepily push himself up to sitting, as she returned to the window and mewed again; he needed to follow. Aram let out a yawn, fumbling sideways with the lamp on the nightstand. The light flickered on and he winced as his eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of darkness, but Aram got the hint. Slowly but surely, and as Samar continued to mew and growl to hurry him along, he stumbled sleepily across the room to the window and opened it to see what was going on.

Once the window was open, that smouldering smell hit him like a smack in the face.  

'Oh no,' he breathed, staring wide eyed at the smoke pouring into the air; 'Emma.' Aram was wide awake in an instant, and he scurried about the room, pulling on the first shreds of clothes he could see –just enough to be able to leave the apartment without scarring anyone. He grabbed his phone and his keys, already dialling for the fire department as he pushed open the front door and ran down the hall. Samar raced along behind him, quick on his heels, and mewing as loud as she could as Aram knocked on Emma's door –anything, really, to add to the volume and hopefully wake Emma up faster.  

But there was no response; no yelling, no coughing, no stumbling around inside, and certainly no screeching fire alarm either. Aram was talking as quick as he could into the phone to the fire department, but Emma's front door remained steadfastly closed in his face with slivers of smoke creeping out around the edges.  

Samar took a step back, and then another and another, trying to keep the smoke out of her face, and then suddenly paused. An idea flickered quickly into mind; there was little more Aram could do, short of kicking down the whole door, but there was certainly something else _she_ could try.  

Both apartments had a window open.

Samar turned and bolted, leaving Aram at Emma's door. His own door was still wide open and Samar raced back inside, through his apartment and back to the bedroom window. Now open, the ledge was slightly wider, and Samar jumped up. It was only another small jump from there onto the fire escape... But that was where things got complicated. Aram and Emma's fire escapes weren't connected at their floor, and racing up or down a level only to go across and then back up or down to get to the other side would take far too long for Samar's tiny paws.

For her it would be quicker to jump... But just like trying to get down from the bookshelf, the distance between the two ledges was just a little further than Samar was comfortable with.  

She knew she could make the distance, after all she had done it enough times already –but in each of those moments, her cat instincts had kicked in and she had found herself flying through the air before realising that her paws had even left the ground. Consciously bringing herself to jump that distance on the other hand, remained daunting. Samar took a breath, peering across from where she stood precariously close to the edge. She took a few careful steps back just for the run up, and then took off. She raced forwards, not entirely sure she wanted to look... And then all of a sudden her paws were pushing off the ledge and reaching forwards, and then just like that she was landing softly on the next ledge barely a nanosecond later. Samar took another breath to try and settle her adrenaline fuelled heartbeat; now that was over, she had the next task at hand.

She jumped up from the fire escape to Emma's window ledge and slipped through the crack in the window shutter that was _just_ wide enough for her, finally entering the apartment. The sheer heat nearly knocked her over but thankfully, the fire was centered in the kitchen, particularly around the oven, while the smoke far outweighed the flames. Samar crept low across the floorboards, shaking her head as she noted the blinking red light on the fire alarm that was begging for new batteries, then jumped up onto the counter furthest from the flames –and more importantly, the one next to the sink with faucets that lifted rather than rotated to turn on the water. The spout was long enough that with a quick bump of her nose, Samar could turn it to aim at the counter rather than the sink, and then with a second bump she nudged the faucet as far as it would go.

Water began streaming, splashing onto the counter and then onto the floor towards the oven.

That was a start. But her job wasn't done yet.  

With that out of the way, Samar bounded back to the floor, racing through the apartment in the search for Emma's bedroom.  

She jumped up onto the bed, landing on top of Emma and yowling to wake her, even louder than she had done to Aram earlier.  

'What the hell?' The younger woman gasped, waking with a jolt. She blinked, her eyes trying to see through the darkness but failing to see any more than the same shadowy outline that Aram had been able to see. Emma paused, eyeing Samar with a sleepy glimmer of recognition; 'how did you get in he-' she began to ask, but then suddenly cut herself short. Emma's eyes widened as the smell of smoke hit her nose and finally registered in her brain, and she lurched from the bed.  

Samar stayed close on her heels, even nipping at them to prompt Emma along when she momentarily paused halfway past the kitchen to stare in shock at the flames engulfing the oven. They had to get out.  

Emma pulled open the front door, nearly running face first into Aram standing on the other side. They both stood there staring at each other, stunned for a second, before quickly glancing back and forth between each other and Samar idling at their feet. Aram had been so busy focusing on the door and his phone that he hadn't even noticed Samar slip away.  

'How-' Emma tried to start.  
'-Fire department's on its way,' Aram spoke at the same time, gesturing to the phone in his hand. 'They should be here any minute.' He broke into a quick, reassuring smile; unlike Emma, who was bewildered after going from waking up startled, to then discovering her neighbour's cat in her apartment, then her apartment on fire, and then her neighbour standing outside, all in the space of a minute, Aram had a much easier grasp on what was going on. Even if he hadn't seen Samar slip away, he at least knew the truth of who she was and could figure out for himself what had happened easily enough.  

/*/*/*/*

With everyone but Aram firm in the belief that Samar was a regular, run of the mill cat, and with Aram having not been allowed to go back into his own apartment to get the box to put her in, he was forced to carry her downstairs and keep holding on to her while they stood outside the building, waiting for it to be declared safe to return by a building inspector. It had been a little after one in the morning when Samar had first woken up to the smell of smoke and now, some two hours later, the street lights competed with the lights of the fire truck. Between the bright lights glaring into her eyes and the cold of the night, the one thing Samar couldn't complain about when it came to Aram having to carry her around, was being able to nuzzle into his coat, shut her eyes and bury her face against his shoulder.  

Emma was still dumbfounded, alternating between stunned silence and short moments of berating herself for having not checked that her fire alarm was working when she moved in a few weeks earlier. Meanwhile the firefighters, once the fire was out and they were in the phase of winding down and packing up, marvelled over the story she told of Samar coming to her rescue, and wouldn't stop complimenting Aram on what a smart, brave, and utterly adorable cat he had.  

Grubby firefighter hand after grubby firefighter hand scratched between Samar's ears in passing, no matter how much she tried to claw her way over Aram's shoulder or bury herself deeper under his coat to get away.  

She was tired from having now not napped in a few hours, and each grubby hand was more irritating than the last. They meant well and even Samar knew it, but honestly, more than anything, she was starting to feel like she needed a bath.  

Though she couldn't deny, she _did_ appreciate the compliments.  

A gas leak was the eventual verdict of the building inspector. It was limited solely to Emma's apartment, from a damaged outlet near the oven that the previous tenant had reported before moving out, but that the building manager had forgotten to have repaired. Her apartment was cordoned off –the fire having been limited to her kitchen- and everyone else was finally allowed to return to their own apartments.  

'I guess this is goodbye,' Emma murmured, watching the trail of residents slowly making their break for the building entrance. She pulled a face; with her kitchen now in serious need of replacement, she would have to move again. For the moment, she was able to stay temporarily with her sister –Aram couldn't help but overhear most of the phone call- but after that, she had to find a new apartment all over again. Dark, tired rings sat under her eyes as they did for everyone in the building after having to spend two hours outside in the street in the middle of the night, but Emma's seemed to sit heavier again. Her gaze was wistful, flickering from Aram's tired but reassuring smile, to the ball of dark fur nestled against his shoulder; 'thanks for waking me up, sweetie,' she added softly, reaching out to add yet another scratch between those furry ears. Samar could only push her way further under Aram's coat. She appreciated the thanks, really, but after all those grubby hands and the sleep deprivation being the majority of the thanks she got for saving someone's life? All she wanted to do now was _sleep,_ not be delayed even longer from returning to bed.

'Samar, don't ignore her when she's trying to say thank you,' Aram tried to coax her out again –albeit gently. Samar warily cracked one eye open and poked her nose back out from under the coat. There must have been something about the look on her face however, for Emma got the hint and pulled back her hand rather than re-attempt the scratch. Instead she held Samar's gaze, breaking into a tiny smile of her own.  
'She really listens to you, doesn't she?' Emma observed softly. Aram let out a chuckle.    
'When it suits her,' he commented, raising a single, wry eyebrow, and feeling one paw's worth of claws instantly make a gentle poke at his shirt in response, 'she's picky like that. Sometimes I think she thinks she's human.' Back under the edge of his coat, Samar let out a quiet huff at the joke nobody else even realised was there. Aram made quick work of the goodbye, giving Emma an awkward one-armed hug and waving her goodbye before _finally,_ following the last of the stragglers back into the building.  

'Just one more day,' he whispered, tilting his head as he moved up the stairs so that his words were only heard by the ears of the tired, cranky cat in his arms; 'by this time tomorrow you'll probably be human again.'


	6. Human

**_WEDNESDAY..._ **

One more day.

That was what Samar kept reminding herself; _one more day._ That was all she had left of her time as a cat, assuming she followed the same pattern as all the others before her. Just like the day before, she was no longer quite so irritated by her cat form, though after the hours spent awake out in the street outside the night before, she was certainly exhausted. Between her and Aram being allowed back into his apartment, and his alarm going off for him to get out of bed and get ready for work, neither of them had managed anything more than three hours sleep.  

But it was still a work day, and Aram still had to get up and get on with it all... And with the pattern showing that it was highly likely that it was Samar's last day as a cat, she had to go into the Post Office too, just so that the eccentric doctor could check her over before she transformed again.

Samar was all too glad that as a cat, she had little to do besides eating breakfast to get ready in the morning. With one eye cracked open, she watched Aram stumble sleepily around the apartment, then sit down to put his shoes and socks on, only to discover that he had dropped his socks a few feet behind him on the way there and hadn't even noticed. Samar scooped up the socks in her teeth, dragging them over to him so he didn't have to move for the umpteenth time... But that was about all Samar's own energy levels could handle. She flopped onto the floorboards at his feet, barely managing to drop the socks from her teeth first. Aram broke into an appreciative smile, reaching down to scratch her ears before gently prying the socks from her as she yawned.  

The next thing Samar knew, she was waking up in that large, open topped cardboard box again, with Aram in the back of the taxi taking them to the Post Office.

She must have fallen asleep at his feet –and so deeply too, that he had managed to scoop her up and set her gently in the box without even waking her for a second.  

Samar had to admit; she was glad that as a cat, she could theoretically sleep all day –unlike Aram, who had to work the whole day on only a few hours' sleep. Any other day over the last week, Samar would have been frustrated at being dragged to the Post Office and bored by having to spend all day sitting around as a cat without being able to do any of her usual work, but considering how exhausted she was, today it really didn't matter. Today, being stuck at the Post Office all day was simply a good opportunity for her to catch up on sleep.  

It was colder in the war room than Samar remembered, but it only took her a second to figure out why. The huge, open room with its concrete floor and walls was always a little cooler than the outside –to the point that Samar nearly always had at least a light jacket on even when she was in the office- but now as a cat, significantly smaller and of lighter frame again than her human form, she felt that cold even more so despite her layer of fur. She curled up in an even tighter ball in the bottom of the cardboard box, trying to hold onto her own warmth as Aram slipped her box into the cave that was the space under his desk. It only took a quick peek into the box for him to see her curled up and know that Samar was cold, and it only seemed logical to him that she would want to spend most of the day napping. The space under the desk seemed demeaning and out of the way, but it was also shielded from the glaring overhead lights, it was a slightly more confined space for warmth, and it was relatively private –all things that he knew she wanted.  

In short, she was quite happy to stay down there and rest until Doctor Smith turned up.

/*/*/*/*

Samar broke into a shiver in her box. Doctor Smith had now been and gone and declared her perfectly healthy, and she had been on a few brief prowls around the Post Office –which was to say, she had followed along at the heels of Aram, or at one point, Liz, as they all moved from office to break room to briefing area. She remained bored, tired, and little too cold for comfort though, so back into the box she jumped each time as soon as her legs felt sufficiently stretched.  

That said, even that plain, cardboard box set on the hard, concrete floor, wasn't that much more comfortable.  

Samar unravelled herself and rose to her feet, stretching and arching her back for a moment before turning on the spot and peering out. The box was just tall enough that its top edge lined up with her nose, so it offered enough space for her to move around within, but wasn't so huge that she couldn't jump or look out as she pleased. Resting her chin against the edge for a moment, Samar stared out: Aram's legs were missing from where they would normally dangle off his chair right in front of her –and for that matter, so was the rest of him. Samar gave another shiver, and jumped gracefully out of the box. She idled around the rolling legs of the chair, gazing contemplatively around the war room; she had caught up on enough sleep by now that though she still wasn't feeling one hundred percent, she _was_ eager for something a little more comfortable than simply snoozing where she sat.  

...And Aram's jacket was hanging off the back of his desk chair.

Samar narrowed her eyes in thought; that was a start. So long as she didn't put a _hole_ in it like she had the rug, she was sure Aram wouldn't mind her borrowing it. The inevitable covering with dark cat fur would come off easily enough in the laundry. Purposeful strides in a lap around the chair went hand in hand with a calculating gaze, as she tried to figure out the best way to get the jacket down. Jumping up to grasp the dangling bottom edge in her teeth and then pulling seemed the most obvious choice, but not the most strategic. It would likely tear as the top end of the jacket remained caught around the top of the chair. With eyes narrowed in decision, Samar jumped up onto the seat instead. She paused, wobbling precariously as her flying impact onto the chair sent its wheels rolling slowly about a foot or so, but then came to a stop again. She leaned towards the back of the chair, taking the back collar of the jacket lightly in her teeth and pushing it backwards until it unhooked and dropped over the edge and onto the floor.

There, that was easier than trying to play tug of war from the floor.  

Samar jumped down again, landing far more gracefully going down to the floor than she had jumping up onto the seat, and practically pounced onto the jacket. She took that collar in her teeth again, dragging the jacket softly along the floor, under the desk, and then pushing it over the top edge of her box. She managed to push the jacket about halfway over, before letting go and jumping into the box to pull the rest in from the other side, finally piling it into a soft layer in the bottom of the box.  

 _Though,_ Samar paused in thought again as she allowed her paws to sink into the soft fabric, a single jacket scrunched up in the bottom of the box still wasn't quite enough.  

She jumped out of the box once more, leaving it and the jacket behind, and began to slink towards the break room.  

The first thing Aram noticed when he returned to the war room from upstairs wasn't the sudden disappearance of his jacket from his chair but rather, the dark ball of fluff in the middle of the open war room floor, wrestling with one of the break room throw cushions that was almost bigger than herself. The extra large, square cushion was an awkward size and shape for a small cat to try and drag across the floor, let alone for the full distance between Aram's desk and the break room. She seemed to be struggling, now about halfway across, but stubbornly carrying on nonetheless.  

Aram paused mid-stride as he watched her, debating with himself whether help her or not.  

'Do you, uh, want a hand with that?' He asked warily. Samar froze in her wrestling with the cushion and her gaze snapped up to note him standing there. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and a soft, stubborn growl erupted from her throat in response. Aram stifled a grin, retreating back to his desk as Samar went back to tugging the cushion along. Even while she was a cat, Aram recognised that response; she was determined to defeat the task at hand, and it was _far_ safer to stay out of her way until she did.  

Aram did a double take as he reached his desk, finally noting his missing jacket. He glanced around the room, back at Samar and then finally, he peered under his desk, spotting it there in Samar's box.

Well, that answered that question –as well as what on earth she was trying to do with the cushion.

Aram finally allowed himself to let out the grin as he sat down, and returned his focus to the reports he was supposed to be writing. At least, now that Samar had caught up on sleep but was still stuck in the Post Office for a few more hours, she had something to entertain herself with.  

/*/*/*/*

Back at home again in the evening, there was a sense of eager anticipation in the air. Every hour that passed was another hour closer to going to bed, and if Doctor Smith's prediction was correct, Samar resuming her human state in her sleep as instantly, seamlessly and painlessly as she had initially transformed from it.  

Needless to say, Aram was exhausted after the long day at work on little sleep, so the decision to have an early night was agreed upon in an instant.  

Samar slinked around the bedroom for what she hoped would be the last time while Aram was in the shower, but she had to admit there was one thing about her impending departure from her cat form that still bothered her; after the events of the night before, with the racing through swirls of smoke and the grubby firefighter hands trying to pet her, there was a layer of grime on her fur that would undoubtedly stay on her skin as she transformed again... And Samar wasn't happy about it.  

Taking her tongue to her fur to keep herself clean was one element of being a cat that she hadn't been able to embrace, even in those last few days... But _until_ that very last day, it hadn't been an issue. Doing little more than slinking around Aram's apartment until the fire meant that she had managed to stay relatively clean –or at least, without being outright covered in grime, but now... She really, really needed a bath, or a shower, or _something_ before she went to bed.  

Samar strode forwards, nosing at the bathroom door –that Aram had, _thankfully,_ left open by the tiniest of cracks- and pushed it further until it was open just enough to slip through. The gentle swirls of steam coming from the shower and wafting towards her nose were an instant relaxation, and Samar continued her way across the bathmat towards the shower, pulling that curtain slowly back with her teeth. Aram hadn't heard the door move, but the movement of the curtain rattled the rings at the top of it, making him jump.  

'Hey, you can't be in here,' he instantly protested, eyes wide at the sight of her sitting there at the shower's edge, staring up at him. 'I'm naked-' Aram smacked his palm against his forehead '-wait, I mean, not that you haven't seen all that before,' he quickly added, rolling his eyes at himself, 'but you're a _cat-'_ a sense of urgency crept into his voice as he watched Samar lift one paw and move to take her first step into the shower with him. This was going to be just like the stolen coffee; her human wants and instincts forgetting their clash with her feline form '-and cats _don't like showe-'_  

Aram couldn't even finish the sentence.

Samar jumped in, idling about his legs for a split second, then instantly froze. The water raining down from above their heads hit her fur in a flurry and out of nowhere, the cat reflexes took over. All in a flash she arced her back, her fur and tail all standing on end as she let out an almost ear splitting screech.

Normally she loved a steaming, hot shower... _Why did it suddenly feel so awful?_

Samar's human brain was overtaken by the urge to do whatever it took to escape as fast as she possibly could. It felt like she was drowning, or melting, or suffocating, or _something..._ But whatever it was, she wanted out, and she wanted out _right now._ She tried to run and leap out, but the pads on her paws kept slipping on the water streaming over the tiles and she went sliding, nearly colliding face first with the tiled ledge at the edge of the shower. Aram winced at the reflexively extended claws grazing over the top of one of his feet as she scrambled, pushing her paws over that ledge and bounding out, still yowling in terror all the while. Aram let out a sigh, shaking his head. He switched off the water, pulling back the curtain and wrapping a towel around himself as he too, stepped out.  

'Ok, hold on a second,' he began, trying to stifle the amusement and instead sound calm, all the while Samar was rolling around, wrestling with the bathmat in a bid to rid her fur of the dreaded evil that was apparently water. Aram crouched down, murmuring softly to her while extracting her from the now soaked mat that was _no_ help whatsoever, and then gesturing to the bathtub; 'how about you jump in here-' Samar's head whipped around and she stared back at him in wide eyed horror '-I'm _not_ going to fill it,' Aram reassured her, calm and soft. He scooped her up, settling her at the end of the tub that was as far away as possible from the water, then turned the faucet so that only a narrow trickle of water dribbled out. Next he reached into the cupboard under the counter, pulling out a cloth, and waving it quickly under the trickle just to dampen it. He reached back towards Samar's end of the tub, holding the damp cloth out openly so that she could see it coming and brace for it, then gently sponged at grimiest patch –that spot between her ears. 'How's that?' He asked. Samar didn't respond –she couldn't, really. Her entire, tiny body remained tense and her eyes were clenched shut, still not enjoying the few drops of cold water freeing themselves from the cloth and rolling down her face, but she didn't fight. She wanted that grime gone, and this was the least awful way for it to get done... And so, she let Aram do it. She remained tense all the while, but she let him gently sponge away each and every patch of grime until not a speck was left and he retreated, leaving the space wide open for her to bound out and shake every last possible drop of water from her fur with a vigorous intensity.

But still, she remained damp, with her fur standing out all over in little, wet spikes.  

Still barely dry himself, Aram reached for another towel, wrapping it around her and quickly scrubbing her down until he could feel her tensed muscles reduce to cold shivers and then finally, they relaxed. He released the towel, leaving her to roll around in it for a little longer while he quickly rubbed himself dry too and pulled on his pajamas, then crouched down to her again. At last she was calm again, and she sat up softly brushing her waffly nose against his cheek –a thank you, of sorts, for saving her from both the grime  _and_ the water.  

'You're welcome,' Aram chuckled in response, earning himself a half-hearted glare; 'can we go to bed now that that's all over?' Samar gave a quick nod of her head and led the way, bounding across the floorboards and then up onto the bed. Aram paused a moment longer before clambering in next to her; instead, he turned to the laundry pile, tugging out her own underwear and pajamas, and folding them into a neat pile at the end of the bed. He met her eye over the pile, breaking into a sheepish grin, and Samar's eyes crinkled back.  

Of course, when she transformed back again, even if she didn't wake up to it, she would be naked.  

She curled into his arm as soon as he crawled into the bed next to her, soft purrs escaping from her throat in an instant.

/*/*/*/*

A flash of purple light lit up the room a little after two in the morning. In the blink of an eye, the cat with the gleaming green eyes and the dark, speckled fur vanished, replaced instantly with Samar's human form. She and Aram slept on, still wrapped around one another, with the light prompting little more than a brief move of his arm to adjust for the different shape now resting against it.  

It wasn't until at least an hour later that Samar began to stir, awoken by the cold shiver of sleeping undressed on _top_ of the covers rather than under them. Her eyes cracked open and she squinted through the darkness, confused in her half asleep state as to why she could no longer see easily through the darkness as she had become so accustomed to. Her fingers reached up to push the long, tangled curls out of her face as she sat up... And then she paused, her brain jolting awake in an instant as she realised;

_She was human again._

With a smile wide from ear to ear, she fumbled through the darkness to pull on her pajamas, then tugged the blankets over herself until they reached her chin. She curled back into Aram's side once more, dotting a slow kiss to his cheek as he slept on.  

When he awoke in the morning, she could finally tell him all the stories of her time as a cat that she hadn't been able to put into words before. He would probably laugh at most of them but in the scheme of things, Samar didn't really mind. He had spent the last week putting up with her cat antics, patiently and without a single complaint...

...Well, _almost._ She _had_ torn a hole in his rug.  

Aram grumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, rolling slightly to nuzzle into her as her lips grazed his cheek... But he slept on. Samar closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into him properly at last.

In hindsight, being a cat was kind of fun... But it was good to be human again.


End file.
